


Blood of Girls

by MistressCelia (MissCeliaKnight)



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCeliaKnight/pseuds/MistressCelia
Summary: Artemis insisted Agamemnon had killed one of her deer, her most beloved. Therefore, she wanted the same of him, of his Iphigenia.There was to be blood, as there was with all girls.





	Blood of Girls

Iphigenia cared for no man, so she cried in the dead of night to the moon, to Artemis, offering herself, naked and the color of fawn skin. Artemis found the human lovely; the way her heart beat beneath her arrowhead as she had asked her name, the way the shaft nestled between her breasts, the strain of her neck as she looked to Artemis for favor, the muscles of her thighs as she stretched up onto her toes.

Artemis crafted a clever lie to steal her away. She insisted Agamemnon had killed one of her deer, her most beloved. Therefore, she wanted the same of him, of his Iphigenia. There was to be blood, as there was with all girls.

He had harmed no such thing, but she forced him to believe it and would soon make it true all the same. The night before Iphigenia was to be sacrificed, she had long been replaced with one of the deer Artemis insisted her father had already killed. The deer had been turned into a human and the poor thing had went to its slaughter the same way it would have gone with her bow, swift and over before it realized what had happened.

People thought to pity Iphigenia, but none knew of her blessings. Iphigenia was given moonlight to soak into her skin, hair from a goddess practically being braided into her own as she worked her tongue between her thighs. How far from Artemis’ touch it was, how it made her body tremble, her fingers warm and practiced, tugging at her insides like a bow. She never snapped, only released all over the goddesses fingers.

Iphigenia was taught to hunt; to pull her wrist back, to remember to breathe, to let go, to feel comfortable in what she had done. She was taught to bathe in blood of what she had killed, relished the thing beneath her, waste not a drop. This was a hunt that did not require a weapon.

Artemis would after welcome her to her new death, naked, knee propped up the way her opposing elbow was to rest under her chin, lazy, dripping, and open like the rest of her posture. Her breasts were to be held like fragile offerings, her body was covered in its own pelt, the heady smell of women making Iphigenia dizzy. She offered herself up night after night to the goddess, letting herself be devoured as an offering, her alter a bed of lavish flora.

Fingers would gently brush her lips, the wet muscle of her tongue pressing against them, drawing them back into her mouth to suck on. Her eyes would flicker to Artemis, a promise, a gentle haze of desire, a gentle moment before the draw string was tense once more. She would pull her fingers from her mouth, slowly, wet and glistening. They would vanish between her legs and she would cry out for her, fawning over Artemis’ touch.

She would never go back to the realm of men.


End file.
